The Man Who Wasn't There

I called out to him in the quiet shadows.
My dewy face seemed pale, sunken, shallow.
I felt cold, hollow, in that pitch nothing.
A chill filled the pale horrid air, something.
I heard something, moving, breathing deeply.
Must have been him, lingering, creepily.
I waited for more. I needed to feel.
I cried out again, breaking that pale seal.
The rough leather on my wrists bruised,
Making my arms quiver and feel overused.
My heavy head then bowed, losing all faith.
My death would come swift in that dreadful place.
Then a heavy sound breathed at my damp neck.
A light then shone through the wall, a tiny speck.
A leaned toward it, hoping something broke
Then an arm wrapped my neck in a choke.
I gasped for air and saw his cloudless eyes
Gleaming in the naked dark I despised.
He laughed in my head, and heard his silk voice,
He was never in my heart, only in choice.
Never was he there, he was only a haze.
Daunting thoughts then poured through my cloudy daze.
Never had I seen him, or touched his flesh.
Then my mind broke free from this scary mess.
Awoken with a start, I cried out into the dark.
The incubus has stolen my dream apart.